Chains
by Madame aZure
Summary: He never guessed that having his sight, voice and freedom taken away could be so… arousing. [P.W.P: Tao/M-21/Takeo]
**Title:** Chains

 **Writer:** Madame aZure

 **Fandom:** Noblesse;

 **Pairing:** Tao/M-21/Takeo;

 **Genre:** Romance;

 **Rating:** M;

 **Warnings:** this fanfiction contains explicit adult themes (bondage, threesome). Read at your own risk.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Noblesse or any of the characters. No trademark infringement or profit is meant from the writing of this fanfiction.

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He senses them coming closer and he turns his head to where the sound of their footsteps comes from, but only darkness unfolds before his eyes, as they are covered with a silk blindfold. He loathes the helplessness it gives him, but at the same time, he loves the thrill of the unknown, because he can't predict what they will do.

His hands are bound with metal cuffs that harshly kiss the skin on his wrists each time he moves. A chain, attached to the cuffs, is connected to the ceiling, forcefully hanging his hands above his head, restricting his movement and making him stand up straight. His shoulders protest from the strain, but it's not like he can voice his displeasure. A silk gag in his mouth and all his witty comebacks are silenced, only muffled moans and pants making it past the fabric.

His skin tingles at the chilly air filled with anticipation, as they had the hindsight to undress him of his shirt before tying him up. What unsettles him is not the defenseless position he is in - he could easily break out of that petty restraints using his werewolf prowess. It's the fact that he trusts them so much he allowed them to everything from him: his sight, his voice, his freedom. He never thought he would come to believe in someone to this extent, since he is one stubborn, distrustful and doubtful individual. He is certain that it has been quite the challenging endeavor for them to get past his difficult personality in order to reach who he truly is. In a way, they tricked him: they treated him so gently, patiently waiting for him to approach them on his own terms, showing him all their facets, good or bad, and in the end he just gave in – just like a beast tamed by a gentle hand. He doesn't like the analogy that much, given that his humanity has been forcefully overtaken by his werewolf side, but it's one that best describes his situation. They know how to handle him and are aware of how thin is the ice of his trusts in people, but they learned how to walk on ice so it doesn't break. He still likes to challenge them from time to time, because one, it's not like himself to quietly accept any situation without a witty or sarcastic remark, and two, he finds it amusing to see them put up with his sharp comebacks.

They finally decide to close the distance between them. The air is thick with arousal, and each breath he takes intoxicates him further, like a drug seeping in his veins and mind, taking over his senses, overwhelming him until all his thoughts are but a hazy mess. He can smell their lust, so raw, so provocative, he can feel their ragged breaths on his skin, as if they're trying to control themselves not to take him right there and now, he can hear their hearts beating rapidly, because they want this as much as he wants it.

He shudders when a hand finally touches him, carelessly drifting over his skin, and he tries not to tense under its touch and show them just how excited he is. The fingers move slowly as if they wanted to map every centimeter of his skin, to feel how it curves over his muscles, how it warms up under their touch, how trembles ripple across it like waves in a river. He craves more, but he can't even ask for it, because now he is at their mercy.

The hesitant hand travels up his chest, past his Adam's apple and under his chin, raising it as if to make him look them in the eyes – but he can't see. He'd like to meet their gazes, defiant and daring, to show them that he is not broken, merely tamed. Someone moves behind him, and two arms encircle his waist, hands resting on his abdomen, tips so teasingly close to his nether regions. There's a warm breath on his nape, getting hotter and hotter as those lips approach his skin, but they don't touch him yet.

The hand under his chin lets go, brushing away a lock of hair from his cheek – they always told him they loved his silver hair. The thumb traces his scar, then goes across his lower lip, and he would've taken it into his mouth by now, if he could. The fingers then travel down along his pulse, which quickens on contact and he can feel the vein on his neck vibrate under the rapid beat. Another hand joins the first one, and they both rest on his chest, as if to measure his heartbeats. But why touch? His heart beats so loudly it practically echoes in the room. Usually, he'd be ashamed of his reactions, but this situation is anything but usual.

They don't say anything to him and he can't beg them to go faster. Audacity sparks within him and he wants to provoke them, to get them all fired up, to make them do what he wants them to do, but he behaves for now, because he knows they want to savor this moment. He'll behave… but his turn will come too to have his way with them, and they'd better be prepared.

A goddamn knee settles between his legs and he lets out dissatisfied growl at the insufficient friction. The lips close to his nape finally work out the courage to touch him, planting a far too gentle kiss. Another pair of lips attach themselves to his throat, but instead of kissing, they playfully bite the skin. He tilts his head to the side to give his tormentor more access. He hates giving up, he hates playing by the rules, but he wants more and if that'll get him what he wants, he'll gladly do it.

The hands on his abs glide on his skin, traveling lower and lower, teasingly brushing over his growing erection, which was already stirred by the knee between his legs. He involuntary thrusts his hips forward, but he just can't get the friction he wants – they won't give it to him until they want to. The hands on his chest brush over his nipples, and he pulls at the chain that keeps him up, the metal rattling in protest. The mouth on his throat descends, teeth brushing across his clavicle. Bite marks and hickeys are planted all across it, a tongue licking the fresh wounds as an apology for the rough treatment, but it's not like he minds it that much. The lips on his neck take advantage of his tilted head to bite the shell of his ear, and he shivers at the hot breath that caresses his skin, as if it whispers soundless words into his soul, metaphorically pouring gasoline all over his sparks of desire.

With another brush over his hardness, the hands around his waist hook themselves into the hem of his pants, waiting there. Oh, if only they'd just undress him already! But they don't – they wait for the cue to continue, and god knows when that'll come.

His draws a quick breath when the mouth on his clavicle moves and suddenly captures one of his nipples. He has to make an effort of will not to shudder when those sharp teeth bite it teasingly, followed by a hot tongue encircling it, occasionally flicking over it. The mouth on it starts giving it a few experimenting sucks, testing the limits, and he hates to say he likes it, but he can't deny the shiver that goes down his spine and directly into his hardening length.

The button of his pants comes undone, as the mouth on his chest moves to the other nipple to give it the same teasing treatment. He sighs in relief when he hears the 'zip' he wants, his pants pooling around his ankles when the knee between his legs withdraws for a second, quickly returning to its previous position. Now only if they'd take off his boxers too… the hands around his waist retreat, brushing past his ass, giving it a hard squeeze, while their owner kisses him on the nape one more time and leaves. He turns his head as if he could see where the other was going, missing his body heat, only to have the teeth on his chest roughly bite his nipple to get his attention. Hm, so the other one hates being ignored.

Nonetheless, he still moans and hardens at the rough treatment. What is pleasure without a little pain – those two intertwine and balance each other so perfectly, it'd be a shame not to experiment them both and play around with a little bit of each. The two hands travel from his chest to the hem of his underwear as the one who left comes back. A simple yank leaves him exposed, and he shudders as he feels their hands roaming all over him, taking in the feel, the velvet-like softness, the warmth. Those fingers read his skin like Braille, as if his own self is engraved in it and they wish to decipher his very soul. Or maybe, they simply can't get enough of touching him.

The knee between his legs retreats and he misses the friction, because as little as it was, it was still something. His underwear falls to the floor and he is completely exposed before them: naked, chained to the ceiling, helpless before whatever they wanted to do to him, and god, so aroused it's become almost painful.

The person before him kneels at his feet, and if he wouldn't have had the blindfold on, he was be sure his eyes would be as wide as saucers at the sudden action. The other couldn't possibly… he almost hears him smirk in satisfaction at his reaction, and he curses in his mind, because it may have been better to watch his own responses, as he only fueled their desires more.

Behind him, he hears a lid pop open, his sense of smell being assaulted by a strawberry scent. A mouth kisses him right under his navel, lips still curled in a cruel smile, as a foot moves his ankles further apart.

If he didn't have the gag in his mouth, he would've licked his lips in anticipation. He curls his back, sticking his ass out, hoping to entice the other and it works, because a hand roughly grabs his ass. He smiles smugly at himself – he still knows how to provoke people, even if he can't use his voice.

He feels a wet and sticky finger circling his entrance, his heart picking up the pace. He lets out a drawn-out, muffled moan when it enters him, just as the person in front of him takes him in his mouth. He is torn between that hot, sinful mouth around his length that wants to swallow him whole and the slightly uncomfortable penetration. The finger moves in and out of him slowly, making sure to thoroughly stir him, while a hot tongue just flicks over the top of his hardness. He simply doesn't know what he wants more: to trust in that velvety mouth until competition, or to see what that little finger might do. His thoughts are rapidly scattered as the tongue just glides along the vein on the underside of his length, from base to top, before circling the head and just flicking over the slit. Hands keep his hips in place, because he almost gives in the animalistic need for release. Another finger enters him, the both of them scissoring inside him, stretching him, preparing him for what's to come. He is sure he is quite the enticing sight: his head thrown back in a silent prayer that they'd stop teasing him like that, the excess lube trickle down his trembling thighs, his muscles tensing and relaxing with every shuddering breath, a trail of saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth as he can barely contain his pleasurable mewls. That must've gotten them all riled up.

He rattles the chain as a third finger enters him, just as the one before him deepthroats him into an abyss of pleasure. The penetrating fingers are scissoring, looking for something. When they finally find it, he sees stars explode before his closed eyes. His breath hitches in his throat and he forgets that has to breathe for several full seconds. He gasps again as his length meets the back of the other's throat. He fears not to hurt him as his violent instincts roar at him to give in and forcefully take what he wants, but it seems that the other has quite a good grip on the situation, not bothered in the least by M-21's attempts. The other is rather pleased to see him so eager, and gives him what he wants, taking him as deep, fast and hard as he wants. The climax builds under his navel, as those fingers return to that magical spot, working out of him more moans and gasps. A free hand travels from behind him, cupping his ass, brushing over his abs then settling over a nipple, suddenly pinching it and pulling it until it hardens at the ministrations.

This is simply too much, and M-21 arches his back as he feels the climax near, but to his despair, they don't let him reach it, both stopping pleasuring him. He whines pitifully, tugging hard the chain, because he was just so close – he basically threaded on the edge of pleasure. If only they'd give him just a little more, he'd reach the heavens.

The one kneeling before him sits up, and once again he whines as he wants that mouth on him again: he longs for that wet, hot tightness that knew exactly how to give it to him to make him addicted to the sensation better than any drug could.

After a quick rustle of clothes, hands go around his knees and he is unexpectedly hastened up, caught between them, like prey between two predators. His knees are pushed against his chest, his weight supported by them, the proximity arousing and comforting at the same time. He feels them against his entrance and he tenses, thinking that they couldn't possibly consider taking him at the same time!

He moans as he feels someone slid inside him far too carefully, the penetration eased by the lube and the stretching. There is a little discomfort at first, but it quickly passes because the other is patient with him and waits for him to get used to it.

He breaths through his nose as deeply as he can, making sure to focus on the feeling of being filled, but loses all his concentration when the other just thrusts into him out of nowhere. He doesn't mind because the other manages to hit exactly his special spot that makes him see stars. Lips plaster themselves on his Adam's apple, which moves up and down as he swallows instinctively. The chain rattles from the movement and he'd like to break it into pieces and just touch them too, but he can't do that. He gave them his trust and they haven't done anything to lose it. Besides he is too excited to even consider escaping.

Not even a few moments later and he feels his other tormentor against his entrance. The one inside him slows his pace, to give his comrade time to enter. When he does, M-21 screams and moans loudly into the gag, because the sensation is simply mind-blowing. They fill him to the brim, stretching him to impossible widths. They once again wait for him to get used to them and he is grateful for that, because, god, they were too much. He twitches involuntarily around them, panting as if he ran a mile, his tights trembling softly. They both embrace him, trying to coax him into relaxing, kissing his neck, running their fingers through his hair, caressing his skin. He slowly adjusts to both of them, but they still don't move, so he has to swing his hips as provocative as he can, because past the pain, he wants more. And they give into his request, simultaneously sliding out of him then thrusting back in with such force, he feels it up his spine. He arches his back, throwing his head from side to side, trying force his moans past the gag. They go in and out of him, hitting his spot each time, deliciously abusing his core until he forgets how to think. A hand sneaks around his length and pumps it in the rhythm of the thrusts, making him tense around them. A thumb flicks over and circles around the head of his hardness, deliciously squeezing it and he can only mewl at the feeling.

He simply loves each second of what they give to him: the way they work their release, in and out of him, so hard, so fast and impossibly deep, the way they know exactly how handle him to drive him crazy, and how to mix the rough treatment with delicate, butterfly kisses and soft touches he can only curl under. They give him a little bit of both, pain and pleasure, gentleness and harshness, excitement and thrill.

They pick up the pace, sign that they are near completion. His breath quickens in return and he feels a little lightheaded, because the pleasure is simply overwhelming. The one in front of him pushes his knees even closer to his chest, pressing him against the one behind him. He feels their skin on his, their warmth seeping into him, their hearts beating in unison, their ragged breaths.

They move erratically, in and out, thrusting into him and pleasuring his every little erogenous zone. He feels like he will go crazy, heat pooling once again under his navel, this time more intense than before.

Someone rips the gag off his mouth just in time, because he screams as the intense wave of pleasure washes all over him, sending chills down his spine, making him tremble helplessly. His mind is thrown into a daze, high on endorphins, mouth open in awe at the sensation, panting like he has never tasted air before and he can't get enough of it. He involuntary tenses around them and takes them to their own completions, and they come with low, suggestive growls. They still thrust in him, riding out their own orgasms, and he shudders feeling their cum trickling down his tights.

He lets out a satisfied sigh when they slowly stop, as he is left without an ounce of energy and he would like to go to sleep… in their arms of course. They played with him and now they have to spoil him rotten to make up for it. They still embrace him, not letting him go, and he likes the closeness, the intimacy, the thought that they were always with him.

Behind the blindfold, his eyes flutter and he drifts to sleep, just as they release his hands from the cuffs, arms falling helplessly by his sides. He'll keep in mind to tie them up too… literally, because the chains of fate already tied their souls together into an unbreakable bond.

THE END :)


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